Chapter 27
OWEN
The pizza box sat open on the coffee table, steam still rising from the pepperoni and cheese. Beside it, a container of buffalo wings, and two bottles of Coke.
I had been sitting on that couch for approximately seven minutes, pretending to scroll through my phone, pretending I wasn’t hyperaware of every sound coming from the bathroom. The rustle of the shower curtain. The soft thud of feet on tile. The click of the door opening.
After we left the rink, we stopped by her house to grab some of her things.
I helped her set up in the spare room, showed her where the extra towels were, and tried to act like a normal human being instead of someone who had his face between her thighs less than three hours ago.
Now I was sitting here like an idiot, my knee bouncing, my attention split between the pizza getting cold and the hallway that led to…
Harlow emerged from the bathroom, and all the blood from my head rushed to my cock.
She was wearing shorts. Tiny scraps of fabric that barely covered anything. Her tank top was thin, clinging to her curves, and her hair was down, falling in damp waves over her shoulders, darker than usual from the water.
She looked like something out of a fantasy.
“Pizza’s here,” I said.
She smiled, padding toward me on bare feet, and the sight of her walking through my apartment as if she belonged here did something complicated to my chest. Something that felt suspiciously like contentment mixed with possessiveness mixed with the overwhelming urge to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my bed.
“Smells amazing.” She dropped onto the couch beside me, close enough that her knee bumped against mine. “I’m starving.”
“You should be. You burned a lot of calories today.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she reached for a slice of pizza without meeting my eyes. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Mhm.” I grabbed a wing, biting into it to hide my grin. “Must have been all that walking around the rink.”
“Exactly. The walking. So much walking.”
“Up and down all those stairs.”
“So many stairs.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, the way she licked sauce from her fingers, the way she tucked her legs underneath her, the way she looked so completely at ease in my space.
“So,” Harlow said, reaching for her Coke, “how long do you think before Bennett tells the entire team?”
“Bold of you to assume he hasn’t already.”
She groaned. “Great. My reputation as a woman of mystery is completely destroyed.”
“You never had a reputation as a woman of mystery.”
“Excuse me?” She turned to face me, mock outrage in her eyes. “I am extremely mysterious.”
I laughed, the sound surprising me. When was the last time I felt this.
.. light? This easy? The weight I had been carrying for weeks, the guilt, the confusion, the constant battle between what I wanted and what I thought I should do, it all felt distant now.
Manageable. Like maybe, this could actually work.
But there was still one massive, unavoidable obstacle.
“I’m going to have to talk to Jax and Kaia,” I said, setting down my wing. “Sooner rather than later.”
Harlow’s chewing slowed. She swallowed, reaching for a napkin to wipe her fingers. “Let me handle Kaia. She’s my sister.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” She crumpled the napkin and tossed it onto the table. “So that leaves Jax.”
“That leaves Jax.”
“Owen,” she whispered. “What exactly are we going to tell them?”
I ran a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. “If everything hadn’t gone down so terribly with Cam, I wouldn’t even hesitate. I would tell Jax we were dating and deal with whatever came after. But it did go bad. Really bad and I don’t…”
“Wait.” Harlow’s face had changed, something bright sparking in her eyes. She held up a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Go back. Say that again.”
“Say what?”
“The dating part.” A smile was tugging at the corner of her lips. “Are we dating?”
My brows rose. “I thought that was implied.”
“Implied isn’t the same as stated.” She shifted on the couch, turning to face me fully. “I’m a woman who appreciates explicit communication. Very explicit.”
I set down my drink and slid closer to her, closing the distance between us until our knees were touching.
“I thought I made it pretty clear,” I said, “when I said you were mine.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“That makes you my girlfriend, Harlow.” I reached up, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers trail along the curve of her jaw. “Or did you need me to spell it out?”
“I mean...” Her voice had gone breathy. “Spelling is a valuable skill. I wouldn’t want you to get rusty.”
“G-I-R-L-F-R-I-E-N-D.” I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Is that explicit enough for you?”
She shivered. The satisfaction that rolled through me was probably excessive.
“I like the sound of that,” she admitted quietly.
“Good. Because I’m not taking it back.”
She pulled away slightly, just enough to meet my eyes. The playfulness in her expression shifted into something more serious.
“Maybe we should wait a little while,” she said slowly. “Before we tell everyone. See how it goes first.”
I shook my head, already knowing that wasn’t going to work for me. The idea of hiding this, of pretending in public that she was just my friend or my roommate, made something tighten in my chest.
I shifted on the couch, my hands finding her waist, and before she could protest, I pulled her onto my lap so she was straddling me. Her eyes went wide as she braced herself.
“I don’t want to wait,” I said. “I don’t want to hide. I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”
“Owen…”
“I want to hold your hand in public.” My hands curved around her waist as I tugged her closer and kissed her neck.
“I want to kiss you.” Her jawline. “I want to tell every asshole who looks at you that you’re taken.
” Her lips were soft and quick. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you. I’ve been doing it for too long.”
Her hands cupped my face, her thumbs tracing my cheekbones. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay?”
“Okay.” She smiled. “We tell them. We stop hiding. We do this for real.”
“For real,” I repeated, the words settling into my bones. My arms wrapped around her waist, tightening as I pushed myself up, carrying her with me.
She yelped, her arms flying around my neck and her legs clenching around my waist. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed.” I started down the hallway, carrying her like she weighed nothing.
“Wait.” She twisted in my arms as I passed the spare room. “You missed my room.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“That’s the spare room where my stuff is. Where I’m staying.”
I kicked open my bedroom door, carrying her through. The room was dark except for the light spilling in from the hallway.
“That’s your room,” I said, depositing her on the mattress. She bounced slightly, her hair a wild halo around her head. “But that’s not your bed.”
“It’s not?”
“Nope.” I braced my hands on either side of her, leaning down until our noses were almost touching. “You belong in my bed. With me. Every night.”
Her breath caught. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”
“Is it wrong?”
She stared up at me, those blue eyes searching my face. Whatever she found there must have satisfied her, because her lips curved into a slow, devastating smile.
“No,” she admitted softly. “It’s not wrong.”
“Good.” I kissed her, slow and deep. “Then stop arguing and let me hold you.”
“I wasn’t arguing. I was expressing a legitimate concern about sleeping arrangements.”
“Harlow.”
“Fine.” She grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me down onto the bed beside her. “But I’m the little spoon. Non-negotiable.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it any other way.”
I settled behind her, pulling her back against my chest, my arm wrapping around her waist. She fit perfectly against me, like she was designed to occupy this exact space.
Her hand found mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining, and her breathing slowly evened out as she relaxed into me.
I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her breathing, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my arm.
Soon, we would have to figure out how to tell Jax. I would have to face the fallout, the questions that came with dating your best friend’s sister.
But tonight, she was here. In my arms. In my bed. She was mine, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, everything felt exactly right.